(This is a tale of events a few weeks ago.)
On a nice Spring morning, Deborah was out putting in tomato plants, and I was on the couch, drinking coffee and facebooking. Because, if I don’t do those on Saturday, there is no civilization left.
On a nice Spring morning, Deborah was out putting in tomato plants, and I was on the couch, drinking coffee and facebooking. Because, if I don’t do those on Saturday, there is no civilization left.
With a thunderous gallop down the hall, the Beagle Posse
burst into the room, did a high-speed banked turn on the back of the sofa,
across my chest, and zoomed from the room as fast as they’d entered. While I was still checking to see if the claw
marks on my chest were bleeding, they returned for another lap, then two more
in rapid succession.
“HEY, YOU IDIOTS, STOP!!”, I explained.
“HEY, YOU IDIOTS, STOP!!”, I explained.
They’d already made it half way down the hall, but turned
and reluctantly came back, panting and twitching. “What?” asked Tommy. “We gotta train. We gotta warm up.”
With all the calm of a Vegan at a pig roast, I said, “Tell me what’s going on, and fast.”
“It’s the last day of the Beagle Crown,” panted Tuppence. “We gotta be ready for the race later today.”
A smart man would have gone back to his coffee and face book arguments. A smart man. “What race?” I asked.
With the exasperated sigh of a teacher with a slow pupil, Tuppence said, “The Beaglemont Stakes.”
Then I recalled that this was the day of the running of the Belmont Stakes, and the final day of this year’s Triple Crown pursuit. “Guys, guys, you have it mixed up. Today, is the Belmont. A horse race. It has nothing to do with beagles.”
“Naw, naw.” Tommy. “We don’t care about those dumb horsey folks, and their big sweaty beasts. The real races are for beagles, and the Beagle Crown. Those bluegrass bunglers stole our idea and our race names.”
“What???”
“The first race, a few weeks ago, was the Beagletucky Derby. The final race, Beaglemont, is today.”
“Posse, I’ve never heard of any of this.”
“Are you a beagle?”
With all the calm of a Vegan at a pig roast, I said, “Tell me what’s going on, and fast.”
“It’s the last day of the Beagle Crown,” panted Tuppence. “We gotta be ready for the race later today.”
A smart man would have gone back to his coffee and face book arguments. A smart man. “What race?” I asked.
With the exasperated sigh of a teacher with a slow pupil, Tuppence said, “The Beaglemont Stakes.”
Then I recalled that this was the day of the running of the Belmont Stakes, and the final day of this year’s Triple Crown pursuit. “Guys, guys, you have it mixed up. Today, is the Belmont. A horse race. It has nothing to do with beagles.”
“Naw, naw.” Tommy. “We don’t care about those dumb horsey folks, and their big sweaty beasts. The real races are for beagles, and the Beagle Crown. Those bluegrass bunglers stole our idea and our race names.”
“What???”
“The first race, a few weeks ago, was the Beagletucky Derby. The final race, Beaglemont, is today.”
“Posse, I’ve never heard of any of this.”
“Are you a beagle?”
“No.”
“There you go.”
“So,” I queried, “the famous horse races are not the main event?”
“Of course not,” explained Tommy, “the beagle races are where the real champions run. I mean, do we look dumb enough to let a half-starved short little guy sit on our back and whip us for a mile or more?”
“So, who wins the Beagle Crown?”
“Beagles.”
“Yes, which beagles?”
“All beagles. The pack doesn’t get wrapped up in First and Last. The pack just runs.”
“Ok,” I said, “but tell me, if the first race was the Beagletucky Derby, and today’s race is the Beaglemont Stakes, what was the name of the middle race?”
“There you go.”
“So,” I queried, “the famous horse races are not the main event?”
“Of course not,” explained Tommy, “the beagle races are where the real champions run. I mean, do we look dumb enough to let a half-starved short little guy sit on our back and whip us for a mile or more?”
“So, who wins the Beagle Crown?”
“Beagles.”
“Yes, which beagles?”
“All beagles. The pack doesn’t get wrapped up in First and Last. The pack just runs.”
“Ok,” I said, “but tell me, if the first race was the Beagletucky Derby, and today’s race is the Beaglemont Stakes, what was the name of the middle race?”
“The Freakness,” barked Tommy, as they did a beagle turn up
the hallway wall and set off on more laps.
Hope the claw marks healed.
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